


Ordinary Us

by basketcasewrites



Series: Fictober 2018 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sweet sweetness, billy and teddy (YA) cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 01:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16170863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basketcasewrites/pseuds/basketcasewrites
Summary: Bucky and Sam argue about almost everything. Maybe that's the most charming thing about their friendship... Maybe it isn't.(prompt 2 of myfictober prompts list: "look out, you idiot!")





	Ordinary Us

He didn't know why it started to happen.

"You're in the back," Sam said, his mouth a frown.

"Again? I might not be from this century but I know you can't do this," Bucky grumbled loudly.

"You have to call shotgun," Sam explained, stone-faced. Was he joking or not? It wasn't easy for Bucky to tell. "If you don't call shotgun, you have to sit in the back. It's just the rules."

Okay, so maybe he did know why it started. Apparently Sam could hold a grudge.

Now, Bucky is a big man— whatever the serum didn't thicken out and turn into muscle, he had worked on himself— and the back seat just isn't comfortable. He slipped in anyway, squeezed in tight with his knees pulled to his chest.

"Where're we going?" Bucky asked, casting a curious look at Sam.

When Sam says "Get up, we gotta go" Bucky learned to not ask too many questions too soon. He just went along with it and hoped he wouldn't be killed.

Steering the car out of the parking lot, Sam threw a quick glance over his shoulder. "We're running errands," Sam said, chucking a short list into Bucky's lap.

"Milk. Flour. Eggs," Bucky read aloud, pulled his face into a questioning scowl. "We're grocery shopping?"

Sam hummed his short response, nodded. Maybe he was scared of the silence, maybe he was scared of what it held, because the moment it began to fall Sam reached to turn up the radio.

Unfamiliar pop music filled the confines of the car. He didn't know  much modern music, Hell he didn't know much modern _anything,_ but he recognized the song.

"Who's this?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"Man, you don't even know Britney Spears?"

"I don't know anything," Bucky stated plainly. He raised his hands into a sort of shrug. "Shouldn't they be playing Halloween music, or something?"

Sam groaned. If he wasn't driving, he would probably have dropped his head against the steering wheel— he had done it before.

A shake of his head. "I can't believe I have to introduce not one, but _two,_ super soldiers to good music."

"So... Britney Spears?"

"First of all, nobody disses Britney Spears. That's illegal," Sam says, with a definitive slice of his hand through the air. "But I'm talking Marvin Gaye. Aretha Franklin. I'm the best at this, just ask Steve."

Tapping his fingers against the wheel, in tune with the new song on the radio, Sam turned into the parking lot of the nearest supermarket.

A look over his shoulder before he stepped out. "You coming, or should I just leave the window cracked for you?"

✴️

So, he didn't really like malls. Or shopping centers. Or fairs. Or crowds in general.

Though he exuded a simple charm, an ease, Bucky could tell that Sam didn't really like it either. He was just more used to it all, Bucky figured.

"I thought your time in the freezer fixed you up," Sam said, carefully examining the label on a loaf of bread.

"I thought you were buying bread, not planning on marrying it," Bucky sniped. His shoulders were a rigid line, a ball of tension tangled in his shoulders that refused to let him free.

Those deep brown eyes on Bucky— Bucky could feel as they took him in, as they looked through him, and he tried to still his hands. Tried not to fidget, but his fingers found the edge of his olive T-shirt and curled, tugged.

Sam gave the list a cursory glance. "If I had a map, I'd still get lost in this place," he said, an understated explanation.

"C'mon." Bucky grabbed the small piece of paper. "Steve drags me everywhere. The spices are down here— pumpkin will be somewhere near the end."

Determination in his every step, heavy combat boots hitting against shining linoleum and sounding out his way, Bucky lead the way through the curving aisles.

 _Milk; eggs; cream of tartar,_ he recited on a loop in his mind.  
Combined, he and Sam were a navigational wonder. Pausing in the frozen goods, Bucky leaned against the shopping carts handle bar and said as much.

"Don't be fooled, " Sam's words an assured utterance, "I'd be no help on a boat, or a long road trip, or anything like that." Meeting Bucky's gaze, he exhaled a hushed laugh.

"From my, _limited_ , experiences," Bucky interjected to match Sam's beaming smile with a small smile of his own, "the best part of the road trip is getting lost. So you might actually be useful."

A coral of shouts rang out in the store. Painfully loud, and coming from everywhere at once.

Sam grimaced. Taking ahold of the handle bar, he gave Bucky a gentle nudge. "High Schoolers," he said with a slow shake of his head. "They think they own everything."

"Remember being that young?"

"Yeah." Sam chuckled. "I miss how stupid I could be."

"Don't worry, you didn't grow out of that."

"I—"

A stampede of footsteps— a treacherous sound— cut Sam off, as sharply as if Bucky had smothered Sam's mouth with his hand. A hollering of teenage voices calling for each other's attention.

The blond boy leading them was easily over six feet, a footballer if ever Bucky saw one. "Marco!" he shouted.

 _Where's security when you need it?_ Bucky wondered, staring transfixed at the utter confusion the group was causing. He heard Sam let out a deep breath.

"Polo!" A tiny brunette replied, equally as loud and rocketing around the corner. Heading straight for Sam.

Bucky blinked. "Look out, you _idiot,"_ he shouted, made sure he used his right arm to grab the kid by the scruff of his shirt.

"Hey," the boy squealed, kicking his legs, "Let me go."

"No." Bucky stared at the boy, at those of the group who had stopped instead of scattering. "I don't care what any of you do in your free time. You're not my kids, you're not my problem. But you can't be running around in here, screaming like a couple'a wolves are chasing you. And you," he shook the boy still held firm in his grip, "How good are your eyes?"

"Pret-pretty good, sir. Mr Barnes, sir."

"Then you tell me why you're running into people as if I plucked them?"

"Bucky," Sam said, voice both gentle and fraught with an unwavering command. "That's enough. Let him down... _Let him down_."

"I'm still gonna dress up like you for Halloween," the brown-haired boy said, feet on the ground, rubbing at his arm. "You're my favourite Avenger, sir." _And did this kid not know when he was being punished?_ Because he smiled as if he hadn't been yelled at, and he talked as if he wasn't afraid. "My boyfriend, Teddy—" the blond boy beamed "—is going as Falcon."

✴️

"You can't call children idiots, Bucky," Sam said, packing the groceries into the trunk of the car.

He grumbled, "Tell me they weren't acting like idiots."

"Oh, they were," Sam agreed. The trunk shutting with a dramatic slam. "But you don't just come out like that and say it. It's called subtlety. You'd think a sniper would know something about subtlety."

Strands of Bucky's hair fell from his ponytail, tickled at his nose. He'd have to cut it again, or maybe he'd grow it out until it reached the middle of his back.  
He couldn't decide what he wanted to do.

Lately... His thoughts were unjumbled in Wakanda, he was more and more becoming as close to his old self as he was sure he could be.

And lately... Even when he was certain of what he wanted, he couldn't decide if he was actually making the right choice. Or if he was leading himself to believing he was making the right choice.

His mind was a place of constant confusion.

"He was heading right for you," Bucky said, "Sam, he could've hurt you."

"So you threaten to call their parents," Sam answered. He lifted his shoulders into a shrug and slid into the driver's seat.

Bucky opened the back door. A battle to keep in a sigh at the prospect of the next few minutes in such a cramped space fought inside him. "Could maybe move the seat up a bit," he muttered.

The passenger door opened with a pop. Sam gestured at the seat, a nod of his head. "Nat texted asking us to pick up a pumpkin. We're gonna need that space in the back."  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see how I procrastinate, shoot me some asks or just hang out, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shuriidyke)


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